Gravity Falls: Mystery Trio AU: Nightmares
by Topaz88
Summary: Ford, Stan, and Fiddleford discover yet another anomaly in Gravity Falls. This one, however, is not as friendly as the last...
1. Chapter 1

_Clang! Bump! Clang!_

Stanford "Ford" Pines looked up from his journal and toward the front door. He had a sneaking suspicion what was making the noises on the front porch, but he waited for the front door to open to be sure.

A second later the door flew open, and Ford's identical twin brother came through, pulling a small red wagon behind him with three bags of groceries in it. Ford wondered how many of the items had spilled out of the bags and onto the porch after all of the clanging and banging he had heard.

"Stan," Ford said, looking down at the wagon. "Be careful with that. I don't want Fiddleford to have to fix it _again_. "

"What?" his brother Stanley said, going out the door and coming back in with a loaf of bread that had, indeed, bounced out onto the porch. "It's solid. The kid did a good job—and don't make it sound like I've broken it a zillion times, it was broken when he had me bring it home."

Ford just rolled his eyes.

Stan picked up one of the bags, brought it to the counter by the stove, and looked around. "Where is the kid, anyhow? "

Stan's twin brother put his pen down. "Fiddleford is in the darkroom," he said, speaking of "the kid" (aka the twins' only-a-year-younger-but-smaller house-mate. "He collected the cameras from the forest earlier and is developing the pictures. "

Stan's Crayola-crayon brown eyes looked toward the hallway. "Oh, yeah—forgot you had a dark room in this house—anything else in this house you want to tell me about? "

Ford returned his gaze to the journal on the table. "Well, there is that cage with the huge monster that I captured last night—I thought you might want to practice your boxing moves with it or something. "

Stan's head whipped around in his brother's direction, but as soon as he saw the corners of Ford's mouth twitch, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, he bopped his brother on the head with his fist.

" _Not_ funny." He grumbled when Ford looked up at him with a full grin. "I don't ever want to hear about you _or_ the kid going out into that forest hunting for monsters without _me_ – got that? "

"Yes, _Dad_." His brother answered, though Ford was glad for Stan's protective streak.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Ford, if either you or Fidds got hurt—"

"Got hurt? " came a voice with a thick southern accent.

Both of the twins looked to see their tiny housemate at the front of the hall. At twenty-one, Fiddleford McGucket was a very slightly built, maybe-ninety-five-pounds-soaking-wet five foot seven.

"Who got hurt?" the young man asked, his cyan-blue eyes looking over his thick spectacles from one twin to the other. "Stan, are you all right? Did y' run into somethin' out there? "

Stan smirked and nodded, going over and tousling his small friend's thick mop of hair. "Yeah, I'm okay, kid. I was just tellin' Ford that I don't want to catch you or him goin' out monster huntin' without me. Both of you need protecting. "

Fiddleford shivered and shook his head. "Personally I'd just as soon not meet any monsters on accident, much less go huntin' for 'em. "

Ford smiled and shook his head. "Fiddleford, was there anything on the cameras this time? "

The young man bit his lower lip. "Well—the camera caught _somethin'_ —though, just parts. The photos are dryin' now. "

Stan and Ford glanced at each other, then back at Fiddleford. "What do the parts look like?"

Their friend pursed his lips and looked at the celling. "Well—whatever kind of critter it was, it was—green, an' looked as though it had—fungus growin' on it. There were—hairs growin' here and there, too. "

"Green?" Stan repeated.

"Hair and fungus? "Ford chimed in, looking intrigued.

"Th-there were great big eyes, too—with no pupils—in another of the pictures. " Fiddleford said, visibly shivering.

"Hm. Please show us the photos when they're dry, won't you, Fiddleford?" Ford asked.

"Yeah, and whatever that thing is—don't you nerds go out there lookin' for it on your own."

"Don't you worry about that, Stan," Fiddleford said with another shiver. "-and Ford, I'll certainly bring those photos out just as soon as they dry. "

Stan looked at his small friend a bit sympathetically. "Hey, Fidds, don't worry. You did just fine with those tree guys. "

Fiddleford looked at the floor and sighed. "Stan, I was scared out of my mind until I found out they were friendly."

Ford looked down at the picture he had been drawing in his journal with help from Fiddleford's description and what he'd seen himself. Not long before that day, Fiddleford and the twins had "met" a giant tree-like creature, which, at least they thought at first, had captured Fiddleford. As it turned out, the creature, part of a race called the Gohlen, took him to a council of the creatures. There, the young man was told he'd been chosen to plant and care for two orbs that turned out to be seeds from which more of their kind would grow.

Fiddleford looked back up at the twins. "Besides," he said, "I'm pretty sure that not everything out in those woods will turn out to be friendly. "

Stan shook his head. "It's okay, kid." He said, slapping a hand down on Fiddleford's shoulder and making the younger man wince, "Whatever we might run into out there, if it's not friendly, you an' Ford've got me to protect ya. "


	2. Chapter 2

That evening, Stan was in the kitchen attempting to fix dinner.

Ford winced as he heard the banging and clanging of pots in the kitchen. "Stan, do you need help in there? "

" _No_ , Ford, I do not need help. "Stan said as he set a pot on the stove.

Ford set the last piece of silverware down on the table. When he looked up, he saw Fiddleford standing there with what he guessed were the dry photos he'd taken in his hands. There was a concerned look in the young man's eye.

"Fiddleford? Is everything all right? Did the pictures turn out? "

His friend swallowed hard. "Indeed they did, Stanford. B-but…"

Ford sat in one of the chairs at the table and beckoned. "Come on, Fiddleford, let's see them. "

"You guys got those pictures?" Stan asked, looking over his shoulder at them. "Hang on. "

As Ford was spreading out the pictures on the table, Stan came over. There were four photos: one of what may have been a shoulder. The skin was green with darker green spots on it, and a couple of black hairs sprouted out the top. Were there— _toadstools_ in amongst the hairs?

The second picture was of a forearm with a clenched fist—on the forearm was a patch of green—fur? – that was darker than the green color of the skin.

Picture three was of a foot—or a hand?—it was flat on the ground in any case. The appendage was also green—with five toes/fingers—four in front and one that stuck out more toward the back.

Finally was picture four—there was what seemed to be a pointed ear, a thick brow bone (also green) and a large, orange-red eye.

"Fascinating." Ford muttered.

Fiddleford shivered so hard he made his spectacles fall askew on his nose. "I'm s-sure you're right, but whatever that critter is—I never want to meet it in person! "

Ford was looking over each photo. "I'd love to study this creature. "

Stan rolled his eyes. "So, what—you wanna go huntin' for the thing? "

His brother turned and looked up at him. "Excellent idea, Stan!"

Fiddleford drew a breath and exhaled raggedly. "Oh, dear. "

"Ah, don't worry, kid, we'll be fine—especially if you've got me there with ya." Stan said, slapping his hand down on Fiddleford's shoulder.

The smaller man winced. "I certainly hope so. "

"Well, boys, " Ford said matter-of-factly as he pored over the photos again, "It looks like tomorrow we'll be going on our first monster hunt. "

Stan rolled his eyes, preparing himself for the barrage of "nerd speak" he was likely to hear the next day. Fiddleford gulped.

The next morning, Stan woke up and looked across the attic room at his brother's empty and hastily made bed.

Groaning, he looked at the alarm clock.

"Five thirty!" Stan grumbled. "Jeez, Poindexter, what time do you think those monster things get up? "

He turned over on his back and stared at the ceiling for a couple of seconds, then groaned loudly and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

After getting dressed, he went down the hall, stopping a moment at Fiddleford's bedroom door and wondering if he was up, too.

As he went down the stairs, he heard voices.

"…and there's a brand new roll of film in the camera, Stanford. "

"Excellent. "

Stan walked into the kitchen and saw his twin brother and Fiddleford, fully dressed. Ford was rummaging in the refrigerator, a half-full backpack on the floor beside him. Fiddleford had their camera hung around his neck by its strap.

Fiddleford noticed Stan first. "Good Morning, Stan. "

After yawning and stretching, Stan answered him, "Kid, as far as I'm concerned this may as well still be night. Why are you two up so early?"

Stan's brother placed a last item in the backpack and closed the refrigerator door. "Discovery waits for no man, Stanley. "

Stan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, an' how do you know 'discovery' gets up before the crack of dawn? "

His brother closed the refrigerator door, got on his knee by the backpack and zipped it shut. "The sooner we get out here and find this thing, the better. Then I can start my studies. "

"But what if the thing only goes out at night, Poindexter? "

"Well, we'll search the surrounding forests and see if we can't find it during the day. " Ford said as he stood up and started to put on the backpack. "If it turns out to be nocturnal, then we'll just have to find it at night. "

Both of the twins heard Fiddleford swallow hard when Ford mentioned trying to find the creature at night.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Great. You're plannin' on interrupting my sleep to find this thing?" He grabbed the backpack away from Ford, "-and gimme that. You two are the brains of this outfit—I might as well carry the food. Besides, you've already got that book of yours to carry, Sixer. It must be heavy with all of those big nerd words you write in it all of the time. "

Ford grinned and shook his head. "All right, gentlemen, let's get going! "he said (Stan thought, a little too cheerfully) and headed for the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

The three headed west from the house.

"We'll do a search of this quadrant of the forest, and then if we don't find anything tomorrow we'll go a bit more to the north. Fiddleford, can you keep track of where we're going? "

"Sure thing, Stanford." The twins' small friend answered, pulling a notepad and pencil out of his jacket's breast pocket and starting to write things down.

Stan looked around. There was forest all around the house, but every part they'd been in was starting to look the same to him. "So, what are we lookin' for, anyway, Poindexter?"

Ford's coffee-bean brown eyes were scanning the area around them. "Anything out of the ordinary. That creature was probably fairly large, from the look of the pictures—so keep an eye out for an area where a lot of damage may have been done to the foliage or something. "

Beside him, Stan heard Fiddleford gulp.

For a while, the only noises were the birds in the trees or Fiddleford drawing a sharp breath when they heard a twig snap.

After about forty-five minutes, Stan stopped and leaned against a tree. "Poindexter, I'm glad you're the one with the brains, 'cause this "research" stuff of yours is pretty boring, and it's not something I'd want to do for a living. "

Stan's twin stopped and looked around, then turned to him. "Stan, you realize you're doing it with us right now, right? "

Stan shrugged. "Eh—I'm just the bodyguard for you two nerds. Besides, I don't have a couple dozen letters behind my name like you two do. "

Ford smacked his face with his hand and Fiddleford grinned and shook his head.

Weee! Weee! Weee!

"What the—"Stan muttered, looking upward.

Through the trees above, they could see dozens of birds flying through the sky, screeching.

"Sweet Sally—" Fiddleford muttered. "Did somethin' spook 'em? "

Just then they heard hoof beats. Ford dodged out of the way and Stan grabbed Fiddleford's collar and yanked him aside before a crowd of deer and other animals stampeded by them.

"I think we might be on the right trail." Ford said as he leaned his back against a tree across the way from Stan and Fiddleford.

"Gee, ya _think_?" Stan quipped, feeling Fiddleford shiver through the hand that was still holding on to the smaller man's collar.

"Grrrumph !"

"Wh-what was that? " Fiddleford asked, shivering again.

All three looked in the direction the stampeding animals had come from.

The three heard _stomp, stomp, stomp_ …then there _it_ was.

The creature may have stood six and a half feet tall had it stood upright, but it walked with its knees bent. Just as in the pictures the cameras had captured, its body was green with darker green spots here and there. Hair and toad stools grew from its shoulders. Right then the thing looked from one side of the trail to the other with pupil-less orange/red eyes.

"Oh-oh my goodness…" Fiddleford squeaked.

Stan lifted the smaller man by the collar again and put him behind the tree. Afterward he clenched his fists and took a boxing stance.

Across the way from him, Ford was scribbling madly in the journal. "Absolutely fascinating." Stan heard him mutter.

The thing raised its head and sniffed the air, then turned and headed toward Stan.

"Yeah, c'mon, ya big ugly—goblin thing."

"Stan, be careful !" Ford called.

Behind Stan, Fiddleford peeked around the tree.

"Oh, dear, oh dear…"

Lifting the camera with shaking hands, Fiddleford took a photo.

"Urrrrrgh !"

The creature put its hand up, as if blinded by the camera flash. After a second it shook its head, put its hand down, and stomped toward the tree.

"Yeah, I don't think so !"

Stan charged the thing, landing a blow with his right fist between the creature's eyes. It staggered back, then shook its head and came forward again.

"Man, what is this thing made of?" Stan grumbled. He charged the creature, but it reached out and grabbed his arm, flinging him towards Ford.

"Eeeyaaah !" Stan yelled as he flew through the air, hitting Ford and knocking him over.

"Oh, no—" Fiddleford squeaked, backing further into the forest away from the creature, then tripping on a rock and falling over.

With ease the creature picked the young man up in his fist and re-entered the clearing.

"Guys!" Fiddleford cried, looking in the twins' direction.

Stan was helping his brother back up when he saw the creature had picked up Fiddleford. "I'm comin' buddy!"

He tackled the creature, hitting it in the side and knocking it down. Upon being struck it let go of Fiddleford, who fell to the ground.

Ford rushed over and placed a hand on his smaller friend's shoulder. "You okay?"

Fiddleford sat up and looked toward where Stan was wrestling with the creature. "Yes, I'm fine—but what're we gonna do about this thing? "

Ford looked over at the creature and his brother and wondered the same thing.

Meanwhile, Stan was straddling the creature's stomach and pulled his fist back to punch it in the face. The creature reached up and clawed Stan's arm.

"OW!" Stan yelled, grabbing his arm. He looked down at the creature, and noted that its eyes had gone from small and orange/red to large, round, and yellow.

"What the—"Stan muttered, when he suddenly started to feel light-headed.


	4. Chapter 4

Over by the tree, Fiddleford bit his lower lip. "W-what's it doin' with its eyes? "

Ford hadn't the faintest idea, but he had the feeling it wasn't anything good. "Stan, don't look at its eyes!" Ford yelled.

It was a bit late for that. Stan heard his brother's voice, but as if through a tunnel. His vision had gone completely foggy. After a moment, he fell over and onto the ground.

"Stanley!" Fiddleford cried, stepping forward. Ford clamped a hand over the young man's mouth and pulled him behind the tree.

After Stan had fallen off of the creature's chest, it got up and looked around.

Behind the tree, Ford stayed as still as he possibly could, one hand over Fiddleford's mouth and his arm wrapped around the young man's body.

On the trail, the creature looked around a moment. Afterward it stomped back off into the forest.

Ford listened to the creature's footsteps until he couldn't hear them anymore. A few seconds after he could no longer hear them, he released Fiddleford.

Ford's friend whirled around and looked at him, more wide-eyed than usual. "What on earth did you do _that_ for? "

"I'm sorry, buddy." Ford said. "I know you were worried about Stan and wanted to run and help. If the creature saw you, or heard a noise and found the both of us, we would likely wind up like Stan and neither of us could have helped him. "He looked apologetic. "I didn't mean to scare you."

His friend closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. "Well—I understand your reasonin'—but you _did_." he said, his brows drawing together. "No matter now, though."

He turned and ran into the clearing, and Ford ran after him.

Fiddleford skidded to a stop on his knees beside Stan, who lay on his back in the clearing. "Stan? Are you okay?"

Ford walked up beside his smaller friend and looked down at his brother. Stan's eyes were wide and glowing yellow, like the creature's had. He got down on his knee beside his brother. "Stan?"

He shook his brother's arm. "Stan, can you hear me?"

The only movement from Stan was when his brother shook him. He continued to stare into the treetops with those glowing yellow eyes. 

* * *

Stan was flying through the air and landed with a grunt on the concrete. Looking up, he saw his father standing in the doorway of what used to be their home back in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey.

He barely had time to collect himself when a full duffle bag came flying out the door and hit him in the chest. His father, with his ever present dark glasses and deeply cleft chin, was clearly angry.

"You ignoramus!" his father shouted at him. "You've cost this family potential millions! I knew you were worthless! I don't ever want to see your face around here again—and if I do, I'll have my pistol ready!"

With that his father slammed the door. _His pistol?_ Stan thought. _What? That's not what he said when he threw me out—what's going on here?_

Stan looked up at his and his brother's bedroom window. Like before, Stanford stood there, but instead of looking sad and betrayed, he looked—angry; seething, even.

Stan stood up and opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out Stanford opened the window.

"Get out of here, Stan! You ruined my chance to go to West Coast Tech, and now I'm stuck here in this dump—all because of _you_! "

"But—"Stan tried to find words, completely confused, as this wasn't how this event had happened. "Please, Sixer, I didn't mean to break your machine, I—"

"Get out of here, you loser! I never want to see you again for the rest of my life—and as far as I'm concerned, I never had a brother, much less a twin!"

With that Stanford slammed the window shut and jerked the curtains closed.

"No—" Stan croaked, feeling a tear come to his eye. "No—Sixer—Stanford, please!"

Stan put his head down and started sobbing.

* * *

Fiddleford frowned. "He seems t' be in some kinda trance. "

Ford looked down at his brother, whose eyes were still yellow and glowing. "Stan—please—wake up! " Ford would not have admitted it then, but he was starting to get worried.

"What do we do? What if that creature comes back?" Fiddleford asked.

Ford noticed that Fiddleford's tone had become flat, even irritated, but he was too busy thinking about his brother to let it bother him. He waved his hand in front of Stan's eyes again. "Stan!"

* * *

Stan looked up.

"What the—"

Looking around, he tried to figure out where he was. After a moment of studying the small room and hearing announcements over a PA system, he realized that he was in the waiting room at the hospital—the one they'd gone to after Fiddleford had been stabbed.

"Man, is this going to go way worse than it did, too?" Stan mumbled to himself.

He poked his head out of the waiting room entrance and looked around, then headed for the hospital entrance.

 _This can't be real. What the heck is going on, here?_

"Well, it's about time you left."

Stan cringed. _Oh, no—not again…_

He looked over his shoulder to see his brother, a frown of displeasure on Ford's face.


	5. Chapter 5

" _What_ are you still doing here, Stan?" Stanford demanded, his brows drawing together.

"I—I was waiting to see how Fidds was doing. "Stan answered. "Is—is he still in surgery?"

Stan's brother closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Upon opening them again, his scowl became deeper.

"Fiddleford—Fiddleford died on the operating table." Stanford said through gritted teeth. "He was the only friend I had at Backupsmore—and now thanks to you he's _dead_!"

Stan could feel the blood drain from his face. "What ?! NO! The little guy was supposed to be fine—"

Stanford's eyes had narrowed. "Well, he wasn't! If you hadn't brought him there—"

"What?!" Stan saw the nurse at the front desk cast a disapproving glance at the twins, but ignored it. "NO! We came to rescue _you_ – and he jumped in the way of that dagger so that you didn't get stabbed! It wasn't _my_ fault!"

Ford looked over his shoulder toward the entrance of the section of forest they'd come into. "We can't stay here. Fiddleford, can you go back home and get a blanket or something? It might be easier to put Stan on it and take him back that way. "

Fiddleford just nodded and took off.

Ford looked over his shoulder at his departing friend, wondering why he was acting so strangely. Normally he'd have been spouting about how worried he was about Stan and what if the creature came back and what if some other creature attacked them, but he'd hardly said a thing since they'd come from behind the tree and back to the clearing.

"No…"

"Stan?" Ford cried, looking down at his brother. "Stan, are you in there? "

His brother's lips moved wordlessly for a moment, then he shouted, "It wasn't my _fault_!"

Stan shook his head and blinked. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer glowing yellow. He looked up at his brother.

"F-Ford? What happened? Where's Fidds? Please tell me he's okay! "

Stan's brother nodded. "Yes, Stan, he's fine! Fiddleford went to get a blanket or something from the house so that we could drag you back." Ford explained, his face full of relief.

Ford's brother closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "It wasn't real." Ford heard him mutter.

Opening his eyes, he said, "Nah, I can—"

Stan tried to move his arm and push himself up, but he couldn't.

"Stan? What's wrong?"

Stan tried again to get into a position to push himself up, but couldn't. "I—I can't move." Stan looked up at his brother. "What gives? "

Ford glanced down at the claw marks the creature had left on Stan's arm. "Hm. I'm guessing that that creature must secrete some sort of neuro-toxin from its claws. "

"Ex-what a neuro-what, now?" Stan asked, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"Through its claws, it injected something into you that affected your nervous system." Ford explained. "That's quite possibly why you can't move. "

Stan rolled his eyes. "Oh, great-just great. "

"You moved your head when you woke up." Ford said. "—so it's likely that the toxin will wear off. "

Just then they both heard running footsteps.

"Stan!"

Stan glanced over to see Fiddleford kneeling down on his other side. "Stan! Thank goodness you're awake! I was afraid…."

"The trouble is, he can't move." Ford explained. "I believe that the creature secreted some sort of neuro-toxin through its claws when it scratched Stan's arm. "

Stan noted that Fidds took a quick glance at Ford, nodded slightly, then put his attention back on Stan. "Let's get you on this blanket so that Ford and I can take you back. "

 _What happened while I was out?_ Stan wondered. _Is Fidds mad at Ford or something? Wait—Fidds mad? Nah…_

Fiddleford laid the blanket out on the ground. Afterward, with a lot of grunting and pulling (that mostly on Fiddleford's part), he and Ford got Stan on the blanket. He and Ford then each grabbed a corner of the blanket near Stan's head and started pulling.

It took about twenty minutes to get Stan back to the house. Ford apologized a they pulled him up the steps. With a bit more effort, Ford and Fiddleford managed to get Stan to the front room and onto the couch.

"Sorry for any bumps you got on the steps. "

Stan shook his head. "Ah, don't worry about it. I'm just glad to be out of that forest right now. "

Fiddleford looked at the clock. "It's almost three. I'll make us an early dinner. "

With that he got up and headed for the kitchen.

Stan blinked, realizing that they never had eaten any of the food in the backpack Ford carried, and that he was _hungry_. He tried to move his hand so he could beckon his brother closer, but while he could move his fingers a bit even they felt a bit stiff. Looking up at his brother he mouthed, _What's wrong with Fidds?_

Ford leaned over and whispered in Stan's ear: "I'm not sure. I had pulled him behind a tree because when you were fighting the monster, I was sure he'd run out there and try to help, and I was afraid he would get hurt, as would I if I ran out there. As I explained to him, I didn't want that to happen. "


	6. Chapter 6

Stan tried to lift his head to look in Fiddleford's direction, and was happy to be successful. Putting it back down he said softly, "You didn't warn him, you just yanked him over? You probably scared the daylights out of the little guy. "

A guilty look passed over Ford's face.

"Well, fellas, 'soups on'''. Fiddleford said as he came in from the kitchen, balancing a plate with a steaming bowl on it in one hand and carrying a folded T.V. tray under his arm with the other.

"Here, Fiddleford, I'll help. " Ford said, standing.

The twins' small friend glanced Ford's way and smiled slightly, handing him the tray. Ford took it and set it up next to the couch, then Fiddleford set down the bowl.

"I'll go get the rest. " Ford said, looking his brother in the eye and heading for the kitchen.

Fiddleford sat down on the edge of the couch. "Stan, how are you? Can you move at all? "

"A little, Fidds. Are you okay? "

His small friend smiled. "I'm all right, Stan—don't you worry about me, none. I'm just sorry you got into a scrape with that critter. "

Stan shook his head.

Ford came over with the other two T.V. trays, then went to get the bowls for himself and Fiddleford.

Stan tried reaching for the spoon next to the bowl in front of him, but could just barely lift his arm up off of the couch. He put his head back down on the couch arm with a groan.

"Man, when is this gonna wear _off_ already?" he grumbled.

"Looks like someone's going to have to feed you, Stan." Ford said. Stan didn't miss the glint in his twin brother's eye. He just rolled his eyes and grunted.

The three ate, Ford feeding Stan (whether he liked it or not).

"So," Ford said when the bowls were empty and setting his journal in his lap. Fiddleford and Stan could see that he had made a pretty accurate drawing of the creature they'd met in the woods. "What do you boys think we should call this thing? "

Fiddleford shuddered. "I'd call it somethin' I'd never want to meet again. It was like some kind of huge gremlin or somethin'. "

Stan swallowed the last spoonful of soup he'd reluctantly allowed his brother to feed him. "The thing made me think of some kind of goblin. "

Ford looked from his brother to Fiddleford and back again, then back to the book. After a moment of thought, he began writing in the journal. Aloud he said, "Gremloblin it is. Thanks, guys. "

" _What?_ "

"Eh…okay…"

Ford continued writing. After a few minutes of silence, Fiddleford yawned.

"Well, fellas, I'm gonna turn in early. See you both tomorrow."

"Nite, Fidds."

"Sleep well, Fiddleford. "

Stan shot a glare at his brother, but Ford was watching Fiddleford head up the stairs. Once their friend was out of earshot, Stan managed to lift his arm and slap his brother's leg.

Ford looked back at his twin. "What? "

"Whaddya mean, _'what'_? Why didn't you apologize? "

"For-?"

"Aw, come _on_!"

With a bit of a struggle, Stan got himself into a sitting position. "Ford, for such a smart guy, you can sure be an idiot. "He looked into his brother's eyes. The only difference between the twins' eye color was that Stan's were a Crayola crayon brown, and Ford's were more of a coffee-bean brown. "What else happened out there?"

Ford blinked slowly.

"You said you yanked Fidds behind the tree when that thing showed up an' I was fightin' it." Stan continued. "You didn't want the kid to go running out there, okay—but I don't think Fidds would be so much less talkative over just _that_. "

His brother's face went a bit red. "I—I didn't want him to make any noise, so—I—I put my hand over his mouth—and I held onto him so that he wouldn't run out to where you were. "

Stan tried to slap his hand over his face, but he was still a bit stiff, so instead he wound up doing it very slowly. "Fo-ord…the kid was probably _freaked out of his mind_! You've known him longer than me—how could you manhandle him like that? "

"I know—I didn't think—the monster was out there, and—"

"You didn't _think_. "

Stan shook his head and tried to stand up, but fell back onto the couch.

"Stanley—" Ford began, standing up.

Stan glared up at him. "Help me up, Ford. We're going upstairs and _you're_ going to apologize to Fidds. "

Ford sighed.

" _Now_ , Stanford. "

Ford drew a deep breath and sighed again, then got up and went over to his brother. He placed an arm around Stan's waist and helped him stand.

Only one of Stan's legs would bend at the knee, so he had a hard time getting up the stairs. After several minutes they made it to the landing.

"All right," Stan said, "Now you're going to go to Fidds and –"

"Nooooo! Please, someone get me out! I can't breathe!"

Both of the twins looked down the hall. Stan immediately started hobbling towards Fiddleford's room, and Ford ran ahead of him, opening the door and turning on the light.

"Fiddleford! Are you all right?"

When Stan got to the door, he could see his small friend sitting up on the sectional he slept on. The blankets had been tossed on the floor. Sweat was pouring off of the young man's face.

"Kid!" Stan pushed past his brother and hobbled over to the sectional. Turning, he part sat down/part fell on to the sectional at Fiddleford's feet. "Are you okay? "


	7. Chapter 7

Ford went over and sat down on the edge of the sectional opposite end that Stanley had, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Fiddleford? "

"Kid, are you okay?" Stan asked. "What happened? "

The younger man placed his hand on his chest and tried to slow his breathing. "I—I'm all right. It was—just a nightmare. "

Out of the corner of his eye, Ford saw Stan's face lose a bit of color.

"Talking about it can help." Ford said as he focused back on Fiddleford.

"Well, I—"

Fiddleford bit his lower lip, grabbed his own left hand with his right and squeezed it a couple of times. "It's silly."

"We're not gonna think it's silly." Stan insisted.

His small friend blinked, then looked down at his hands. "When—when I was about seven or eight…well, one morning the headmistresses at the orphanage had us boys out shovelin' snow. I could barely lift a shovel, much less with snow in it, but I tried anyway. "

Stan and Ford grinned, as both of them could picture that.

Fiddleford swallowed hard and continued. "S-some of the older boys—I guess that they were trying to be funny or somethin'—I was shovelin' snow near the far side of the buildin', an' somebody grabbed me from behind. I tried yellin', but whoever it was put their hand over my mouth. "

Stan shot a glare at his twin brother, who chewed his lower lip.

"It—it turned out to be one of the older boys." Fiddleford continued. "He—threw me is a hole he an' some of the others had dug in the snow, and shoveled snow in on top of me. "

Ford drew a sharp breath, and Stan's fists clenched.

"I yelled and screamed, but I don't think anyone heard me. I tried to dig myself out, but the snow fell in on top of me. Don't know how long I was under there, but when I woke up I was in the hospital. The headmistress that was there said that I almost suffocated. "

Stan punched the sectional cushion, but Ford was sure that Stan was wishing it was one of those boys' faces.

Ford closed his eyes. "Fiddleford, I'm so sorry. I should have thought before I—before I did that to you this afternoon."

His friend shook his head. "Aw, it's okay, Ford. I was upset when you did it, 'cause it scared me. I guess not bein' able to cry out or move sorta reminded me of what happened when I was a kid, but you didn't know. An' I know you just didn't want that critter to know we were there. "

Ford shook his head. "Regardless, I should have gone about it in a different way. "

Fiddleford grinned. "Ah, it's over now, Stanford, an' we're all safe."

The young man turned to look at Stan. "Stan, I'm glad you're movin' around—"

He saw that Stan had a disturbed look on his face.

"Stanley? What's wrong? "

Stan drew a deep breath and exhaled as the memory of all of the "nightmares" he'd had while under the influence of the "Gremloblin"'s neurotoxin came flooding back.

"Uh—Ford—I think you're goin' t' wanna get that book of yours. I've got a lot to tell you about what that creature we ran into does to a person. "


End file.
